Before Time Itself
by Confinedloner
Summary: Merle and Arron met in class, made friends at the table, and suddenly Arron has a baby dropped into his lap... Well... this is awkward. Arron felt way too young to be a Papa, but he would be if that's what the kid needed. For now.
1. Chapter 1

_Don't own walking dead. Just the Jacobs family._

* * *

 _The first time I met him, I knew. To me, it was obvious. I couldn't understand how no one could see it. How could anyone look at him and just keep walking, ignoring the obvious signs of abuse? How can they continue to stand there and call themselves human while being completely oblivious to the facts? Because, that's what the signs were; facts._

Little Arron Jacobs looked like a mini Otaku. Which made since, he thought as he smeared the 'Mud' hair styling jell in both hands, considering I am one to an extent. Arron was rather small for his age with mousy brown hair and gray eyes that bleed into a deep blue in the shade. His mother always said he was a ladies man, whatever that meant. At the age of seven, Arron didn't want to be a 'Ladies Man.' 'Ladies' had the tendency to pinch his cheeks until they were painfully raw and fuss over how 'cute' he was. Arron scowled at his reflection as he ran his tiny hands threw his hair, tossing his bangs to the right side of his forehead along with the short hair on the crown of his head. I'm not cute, his thoughts growled. He smoothed down the stubborn licks of hair, growling when a lock of hair refused to do down. "Dang it, go down," he hissed at it through the mirror as he ran both hands down the left side of his head repeatedly, hoping it would at least flatten out a little more.

"Arron!" his mother's voice drifted through the open door way of the bathroom. "Let's go! You're going to be late!"

"Coming, Muma." Arron huffed at his reflection, deciding to just say 'oh well.' It was a lost cause anyway, he thought as he reached over the sink to wash the product off his tiny hands. Looking up at himself through dark eyelashes, Arron frowned. He really did look like a girl with his rounded face and huge eyes. It really annoyed him sometimes. Drying his hands on a nearby towel, the child stood up straight on his baby blue step stool. "Hm," he hummed in a childish attempt to be classy, "Not bad, handsome," Arron purred at his reflection as he shifted his shoulders to the side at the same time as he ran his hands down the front of his navy blue blazer, a move he had seen his dad do a million times before his weekly dates with his mom.

"Arron!" His mother called up again, "Let's! Go!" She punctuated each word before turning to her husband, who was chuckling as he grabbed his suitcase and keys from the kitchen counter. "This is your fault!" The woman playfully growled at him, throwing a manicured index finger in the man's direction.

"My fault?!" He gasped in false hurt as he turned to his darling wife. "Why are you blaming me? You're the one who has to go to the stylist every time you get a split end!"

"You know that's not true!"

"Is too!" He threw back at her childishly as he made his way out the door.

"Is not!" The woman called just as the door clicked closed.

Arron caught his mother sticking her tongue out at the door as he made his way down the stairs. He paused wryly on the last step. "What are you doing?" He asked, giving the woman an odd look, that made his mother want to squeal. Her son was just too adorable.

"Nothing. Nothing," She giggled. "Welp, you ready now?" Arron was still giving her the look; even as he tried to slip past her, little hefty, she'd admit, frame, like one would a sickly person when they didn't want to catch what the person had, to get his sactual for school. Sometimes, her son was too cute for his own good, she thought, contently, as she watched him.

"Mom," Arron snapped, annoyed. He was already out the door, down the small walk way, and waiting at the car door. Seriously, she was so slow sometimes. "Let's go!" Arron completely ignored the déjà vu feeling. It felt wrong to be the one rushing his mother when she was just doing the same to him at just the moment before. To make matters worse, he could hear his mother's laughter and his face grew a little hot in sudden embarrassment.  
 ___

Unbuckling his seat belt, Arron opened the car door eager to get out of the car. His mother was so suffocating. She kept going on and on about boring work stuff. Telling him things he really didn't want to know. Things he was pretty sure a mother shouldn't tell her seven year old son. It must be the therapist in her that makes her forget I'm only seven, he thought as he leaned over to absentmindedly kiss her soft cheek. "Bye, Mum," He said, already hopping the short distance to the ground.

"Bye, sweetie," She called just before the door closed. "Oh," she remembered, quickly reaching for the window control. "Hey," Arron paused, mid-step, looking back at her from a few steps away. "I'll probably run a little. I have a late session today, so I'll pick you up at the Café. Ok?"

Nodding, Arron said, "Okay."

"Love you!" She yelled, but he was already going up the steps to the school. "That kid." Reaching over to shift the car in drive, the mother pressed on the gas as she rolled up the car window. "Always in a hurry."  
-

His name was Merle, and he was Arron's new table mate. Arron wondered why he had never noticed Merle before. Arron saw everything, knew everything that happened in his classroom, from the kid in the third row who still picked his nose when he thought no one was looking to the little emo wanna-be who was always drawing fake tattoos of death on his arms. So, how did he miss this kid? Arron wondered as he stared at the small boy next to him.

He was tiny too, Arron noticed. Merle was tiny in both height, though probably still a little taller than Arron, and in frame. Actually, now that he was really looking at him, this Merle kid was way too skinny. He was almost malnourished skinny… with pale white skin and dark bags under his eyes. Arron bit his tongue. Something he subconsciously did to ease the pressure on his jaw from tightening the muscles too much. The way he holds himself… The kid looks about ready to curl into itself, Arron deduced.

Then, he realized what he was seeing at and wanted to be sick. Arron was a smart kid. He knew what was wrong with the boy next to him, probably because his mother was a Therapist and his father a Social Worker, neither of whom believed in censoring the truth, despite the fact that their son was only in elementary. There was nothing Arron could do for Merle, thought. This was a fact Arron knew as well, and it made him feel numb. The more Arron thought about it, the more his nose burned. Smart or not, mature or not, Arron was only seven. He still had an uncontrollable need to cry when he was upset.  
-

Arron watched Merle for weeks, mostly because he didn't know what to do for the kid. He wanted to help. He really did, but he was just a child himself. Somehow, Arron knew that telling someone wouldn't help either. At least, it wouldn't help Arron get in Merle's good books. Maybe? He didn't know if Merle had good books… or even books at all. Even so, Arron just watched, collecting information, little things he noticed now that he was aware of Merle's existence. Little things like how Merle never took notes, never talked to anyone. Well, more like no one talked to Merle, he thought as he watched the kid sit down at lunch, only for the other kids to move away. He watched Merle scowl angrily, grinding his teeth as he stared at the table where the kids use to be, hands curled into fists.

He doesn't have a lunch, Arron noticed. It's lunch time, and he doesn't have a lunch. Arron looked down at his lunch as a wave of despair hit him. What kind of parents lets their kid go without a lunch? Arron looked over at the teachers table. None of them seem to be concerned, not for the lack of food nor the treatment Merle was getting from the kids. What kind of teacher doesn't pay attention to their students? Arron felt another, stronger, wave of despair hit him as the he came to another realization. No one cares. No one cares for little Merle, who sat alone in an angry cloud of frustration and hate.

Well, Arron stood up determinedly, not anymore. Arron wasn't going to sit by and watch this injustice anymore. Gathering up his lunch, Arron made his way over to Merle's table. The boy looked over at him when Arron silently let his body fall into the chair next to Merle. Neither said a word as Arron spread his food out in front of him again. Merle continued to stare at Arron in confusion and mistrust for a long time. Arron ignored Merle as he ate his sandwich. When Merle finally looked away, Arron relaxed a bit more in his chair. Pulling out the second sandwich his mother always packed for him, just in case he got hungry again later in the day, she always said, Arron slid it silently over the table top and into Merle's space.

Merle stared at the sandwich, unsure what to do, his mind still had yet to process what was happening. Why was the pretty boy from his class suddenly taking notice of him? Him, the white trash no one wanted to be around? Merle was confused, and he was sure it was showing. If he saw it, the boy next to him didn't show it. The seven year old in him wanted to take the offering, but the abused and neglected side of him snarled at the boy. He didn't want pity. He didn't need it. Merle turned to glare at the pretty boy, but the kid just continued eating, completely ignoring him.

Merle glared at him for a long time. He glared for so long; Arron was starting to doubt himself. His plan didn't seem to be working very well, he thought. Then, just as he was about to give up, Merle reached out and snatched the sandwich off the table, his stomach winning over his apparent hatred. Arron let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Don' thunk t'is means I owe ya or nothin'," Merle snarled, his small hands already ripping open the zipblock baggy even as he spoke.

Arron grinned around his sandwich. "Wasn't thinkin' it," He replied as he chewed.

From that day on, Merle and Arron always ate lunch together. Maybe it was a start to a beautiful friendship, Arron thought, taking anther bite of his sandwich, then again… Maybe not. This is Merle we are talking about. Merle didn't seem the type to make friends.


	2. Chapter 2

_Don't own Walking Dead. Just the Jacobs family._

* * *

Did you know Merle is a Pokemon?" Arron asked the tiny human sitting in the car seat in front of him on his dining room table. His not-friend, Merle, had dropped the tiny human off at his house just minutes before, then ran off calling a 'be back later for 'im,' back over his thin shoulder. Arron was left staring at the new born baby with a blank face. Where in the world did this come from? He wondered. Better yet, why had Merle just suddenly thrown a baby at him? "That's why he's always running off. Try not to get offended, okay?"

Arron stared into the pink bag of flesh's blue eyes. No… He paused in thought leaning down into the child's face, green? He wondered as he stared into the surface of the baby's eyes. The child stared back into Arron's, at the moment, gray eyes, watching as the color slowly shifted as Arron grew closer, cutting off the artificial lighting to his eyes. "Blue-green," Arron decided. "Or green-blue?" he asked raising a dark eyebrow. Arron really didn't know what they were or how to explain them. When the eight year old realized he was practically in the baby's face, Arron moved back out of its breathing circle before he somehow suffocated it.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to be a kidnapped victim or ransom cargo or something would you?" Arron was eight; of course, his genius of a mind would come up with some really stupid and far fetch reason for Merle's sudden burden to be dropped off on him. Granted, Merle himself was eight as well, Merle seemed to be going places nowadays with his new group of older friends. Not good places, either. Arron knew Merle's older friends weren't really the friendly type. They were really the 'I'll slit your throat' type, which meant, if they got in trouble, Merle would be suffering jail time with them in the future.

The baby seemed to find something about Arron funny, because suddenly there was a fit of giggles echoing around the dining room kitchen area, catching Arron's attention again. "What?" he asked tiny child, "I take it that's a no then."

Arron tilted his head to the side as he studied the baby through his brown locks. Now that he thought about it, Merle didn't drop off a baby bag or anything to take care of the baby with. Hell, the said Pokemon didn't even drop off the baby in the carrier. Arron found it at the entry way of the basement with all Arron's old baby stuff. Maybe, Arron wondered as he studied the hairless human, there are more useful things down there? Arron scratched his head. Can't just leave him here, though, while I look through the underground junk yard. "Well," he started, wondering if the baby even understood him, "I suppose you'll have to come with me while I dig through the mountain of useless cr—er, stuff." Arron almost cursed in front of a baby. Dang it. This was going to be a little harder than he expected.

Grabbing the well-worn handle of carrier, Arron, gently, lifted the baby from the table, walking the short distance to the basement door. "Well, kiddo," he said, looking down at the child as he reached for the door, "I hope you're ready for an adventure, 'cause that's what we're going to be doing." The baby made a funny gurgling sound, waving tiny fists in all kinds of random directions. It looked to be trying to show its excitement. Arron shook his head at that thought. It was a baby. Babies didn't really have feelings like excitement yet. At least… he didn't think so.

Anyway, he thought as he pulled himself from his thoughts, chiding himself in his head, got stuff to be doing. Arron pulled the door open, reaching in to flip on the light for the stair well. "Well, looks safe enough," he muttered to himself, like he always did before walking down this particular stair case. Arron watched a lot of horror movies and anime. He knew would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't at least a little scared of the basement stair case. Its weird, he amused as he moved forward, glancing down at the tiny human he was carrying every other step or so to make sure it was alright, it's just the stairs that unnerve me. Once I make it to the bottom, I'm fine. Just as he finished the thought, Arron stepped down from the last stair, heaving a sigh of relief as he glanced back at the, admittedly, creepy stair case.

"Right," Arron sighed, turning to the mountain of junk shoved half assed into an even bigger mountain of boxes. Some of the boxes were labeled, some were not… most weren't. It seemed his parents really didn't care all too much to spare the five seconds it would take to narrow Arron's search down. "So, then," the eight year old set the baby down as carefully as he could and glanced back at the mountain of the lost, "Guess I should get started, huh?" He asked the tiny person next to him. It was starting to feel strange talking to this little monster of pink flesh.  
-

An hour later, Arron gave up. He found an old play pen and a box of toys and old clothes that might fit the tiny child, he didn't know, but really that was it. The only reason he found that was because the play pen was leaning next to the entry way around the same area he'd found the car seat in. By this time, the tiny kidnapped victim in said car seat had begun crying. Arron was beside himself. He really didn't know what to do with a crying victim, er, baby, and he was beginning to panic. "Shut up, please," He begged the baby as he rocked the car seat, something he had seen his dad do a few times when Arron visited him at work. "Please, stop crying?" He half-heartedly asked the child, knowing full well it wouldn't work.

Okay, okay, Arron sighed, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand, trying to get himself to think through the panic. "Think. Think. Think." He punctuated each word with a hit to the forehead. "What do the mothers in anime do?" He asked himself. It was Arron's problem solving question. If he had a problem, he'd ask Anime. Seriously. When normal people asked, 'What would Jesus do,' Arron asked, 'What would Anime do?' Taking a deep breath, Arron shifted through his memories of all the shows he'd watch. Mothers in Anime were usually background characters. Babies were usually background characters in the shows he watched. However, there were a few Mangas he'd glossed over a few times with a baby as a main character. Arron hit his head a few more times, this time trying to come up with a title to look up. He didn't have time to read it, he suppose, but he could glance through a few online Mangas for answers.

"Stay right here," Arron told the baby, awkwardly, as he got up to go get his Laptop from his room. Seriously, he chided himself as he hopped up the steps two at a time, where's he going to go. This is one of those days he wished his parents hadn't started to work late. They would surely know what to do. He thought as he grabbed his laptop and ran down the stairs, to the baby's side. Arron lifted the screen, pressing the power button, all while rocking the baby again. "Come on. Come on," he chanted as the loading screen popped up. "Seriously," he growled at the laptop. It was taking too long. After a few seconds that felt like hours, the laptop transferred to an update screen. "Seriously!" Arron shouted at the stupid laptop. "Fuck this." He turned away from the laptop and pulled out his Samsung. Grumbling, Arron unlocked the phone. "Stupid laptops," he muttered, "Never there when you really need them." Swiping through the main app screens, Arron found the app he read all his Mangas on, #Mangania, and tapped the black and green icon.

Arron looked up at the crying baby. He wasn't going to lie. At this point, Arron felt like he was losing the battle. The baby was crying, the laptop was lagging, and he was really too stressed to think of the Manga title he needed. He was going to have to go through every title randomly using the old fashion search engine method manually. He sighed. Where was Merle? Why wasn't Merle taking care of the baby? Who the _hell_ was this baby anyway? An introduction would have been nice. Hell, anything would be nice at this point in Arron's life.

How long can a baby cry before it hurt its self? Arron wondered as he looked back down at his screen, tapping the first title in the browse list: _(g) Edition_. Hentai manga artist; no. He pressed the back button. _+anima_ : Beings with animal-like powers. Nope. This was going to take a while he realized. _+c Sword And Cornett_ : he seriously doubted it, so he skipped over it. _…Seishunchuu!_ : doubt it. Next, _… no Onna_ … This was taking too long. Arron growled in frustration. In some desperate need for help, the eight year old looked up at his laptop.

"Finally," he breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the start screen. Quickly, Arron reached over typing in the password of the week: Merle_is_ *A-capital_D (He was angry at Merle at the time, so sue him). Once the main screen loaded up, Arron clicked on his Google Chrome. Clicking 'restore' was a natural habit for him by now. Arron growled as tab after tab popped up on his window. Damn it, he really needed to learn to exit out of his tabs, he thought in frustration. "Fuck it," he said as he minimized the window and opened FireFox. When the google home page popped up, Arron clicked in the search bar. Anime with babies, he typed. _Browse Babies Characters | Anime-Planet_? He asked himself, clicking the link. This could take a while, he thought as he stared blankly at the list of Anime babies and the anime they were from.

Idly, Arron ran his mouse over the bottom of the screen to see the time. The kids been crying for a good thirty minutes. He wondered if that was a bad thing.  
-

So… it was official. Arron is the worse baby sitter in the world. He realized this when he finally took a break in searching for 'How to's online. Seriously, smell the baby's dipper was apparently all he needed to do for this little one. He also found that the kid was a male. Why hadn't he thought to look before? Now, the problem was the dippers. Not only did Arron not know how to change a dipper, but he also had no dippers to put the kid in. Back to the internet, he sighed as he opened a new web page. The Internet had all the answers right?  
-

Arron stared at the hand towel he had wrapped around the baby's butt. Why did he feel like this was going to be an even longer day then he thought it would be? While Arron had followed the instructions to the T, the make shift butt cover just refused to stay closed. At least, the kid wasn't crying anymore. This gave Arron a small piece of mind. "Jeez, kiddo. You're a crier," he stated aloud as the tiny male giggled. Well, at least when nothing is bothering him, the baby seemed to be a happy baby, Arron thought as he wrapped a body towel around the tiny baby like a blanket. He looked like a fluffy human burrito now to Arron. Scratching his head, Arron stared at the baby. "So…" he drug out the word, "What now?" Arron wondered. Maybe he should actually go to the store and get the kid some dippers and… food, now that he thought about it. Apparently, babies needed to eat ever… Arron checked the site again to make sure he had his facts right. 2 to 3 hours?! "Tha hell, kid!" he said in amazement, "Your going to be _fat_." Arron stressed the word fat. "But…" he sighed out, lifting his left hand to his head to scratch his head, a habit he was already developing around the kid, "I suppose ain't nothing I can do about it. It is an official health site, apparently."

Yeah, okay, so his search for the answer to the things he needed to know though Anime half failed. Arron would admit that it probably wasn't a good idea to look for an Anime you didn't remember the title of. Made looking for the answer that much harder, but, seriously, what else was he supposed to do? Anime and Manga was his life nowadays. It seemed to have all the answers he wanted to know before, why would this time be any different? Arron was sure there was something in the genre that could help him. He was sure of it. He knew there was. Arron just needed to find it. And, he would…. Just… right now, he couldn't, not when he still had the baby to actually take care of.

"Where's your Muma?" Arron wondered out loud. "Ain't she worried for ya?" he asked the child, not really expecting an answer. Glancing at the time on his phone, which was sitting next to him on the carpeted floor in the living room, Arron checked the time. Six something, he thought. He wondered if Merle ever planned on coming for the baby. Did he forget about him or was he just not coming? Arron didn't know what to do now. He'd already had the baby for around 2 hours, which means it was getting time for the little guy to eat. If he wasn't already hungry, Arron thought as he looked at the tiny being. Merle probably didn't feed him either. Probably doesn't know the first thing about babies either.

Arron sighed. "Well," He said as he pushed himself off the floor, moving towards the kitchen and leaving the baby, "Guess it's up to me then to find something you can eat." Absently, Arron reached up to the can on the fridge. "I don't think I can leave you here," the eight year old told the baby through the door way, "but I'm not sure taking you with me would be a good idea." He pulled the lid off the can, looking inside. "It would raise so many unneeded questions already just buying the baby stuff." He pulled out a twenty and a ten from the emergency stash. This was an emergency for Arron so Arron didn't see it as wrong. Then he put the lid back on and stashed the can back on top of the fridge. Half-heartedly, Arron noted that he no longer needed a chair to reach it. Though, he did still need to tippy toe. He was getting taller. Not that he had much time to think about it at the moment. Just wondered why he never noticed before. Probably because I spent so much time alone, he thought as he made his way back to the living room, money stashed in his front pockets.

He stared down at the wiggling burrito. "I'm gonna have ta leave you 'ere," he said, his voice picking up a slight country slang he picked up from Merle somewhere along the way. If his parents were here, they'd probably scold him for it. Then again, if they were here, like they were supposed to be, he wouldn't be in this situation. Arron wouldn't have to decide whether to leave a baby on its own, even for a few minutes, or to take the baby with him and probably get pulled over for looking like a neglected child. Hell, he'd already look like a neglected child just by walking in the store if it wasn't for his smart way of dressing. They would look at his clothes and assume his parents were just around the corner or something. If he walked in with a baby covered in towels, however, it didn't matter how he dressed. They'd take one look at the baby and call the cops. Somehow, Arron knew that wouldn't go over well with Merle or Merle's home life. Where ever Merle got this baby, Arron was pretty sure it had to do with that: Merle's home life.

With a sigh, Arron walked over to the play pen and started to set it up. "Guess I have no choice here," the eight year old muttered to himself as he worked. "At least you'll be safe in the pen." Not that it made him feel any better. Arron liked to think he was responsible. He liked to think he was an adult. His parents treated him like one, thus the reason for no babysitter, but this situation made him feel even more like a child. He just wanted his parents to come home. He wanted them to tell him what to do, to take the baby off his hands so he wouldn't have feel useless. Except that wasn't going to happen. His parents were working later and later these days.

Actually, when he thought about it, the last time he saw them together was the day he decided to make friends with his not-friend Merle. That was a year ago. Arron was a smart kid. He knew his parents were avoiding each other. It may not have started out that way, but it was sure ending like it. Sometimes, he wondered what happen between them to cause the rift. They had seemed like such a happy couple, always laughing, always smiling, and always making funny, childish remarks. Then, suddenly out of the blue, or what felt like it, it all happened so fast in his eyes, they just stopped coming home. When they did come home, it was always one or the other, never both of them at once. They still loved him, still joked around and pretended nothing was wrong; so, Arron pretended everything was okay too, even though, it clearly was not.

"Ow!" Arron yanked his hand back from the pieces he just snapped together. The baby laughed at him while he looked over the small red spot on the webbing between his index finger and thumb where the pieces bit into. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," He grumbled as he stuck the soar in his mouth, sucking on it lightly. He guessed this was what he got for being distracted. Dropping his hand, Arron sighed. "Alright then." He back tracked to where the baby was laying. "You're gonna be on your own for a bit," Arron told the kid as he picked the baby up, taking him to the completed pen. "But, it shouldn't be long, okay?" He continued as he placed the baby down in the pen. "Papa Arron is going to get you some formula so you can eat." He didn't really notice the little nickname he'd given himself until he was already making his way to the door. Eight years old and already feeling like a daddy, he thought bitterly. Not that it's the kids fault. "Be patient, okay?" He called over his shoulders as he stepped out the door. He closed the door quietly as he could and locked it. "Okay," Arron told himself as he walked down the driveway to the road. "Okay then." He turned towards the small town store. "I got this. I won't be long."


	3. Chapter 3

Don't own Walking Dead. Just the Jacobs.

* * *

Arron and Merle had been friends for around a year now. To an outsider, their friendship didn't look like much. Arron knew they looked more like the bullied and his victim. Maybe, to some degree, they would be right. However, what people didn't know was Arron had become sort of like a caregiver to the other boy. Sure, Merle did what he want, where he want; he was after all Merle, but, when Merle needed help, Arron was there. He needed food? He'd just demand Arron to find him some. He needed a place to sleep for the night? He'd pick Arron's lock and crash in his room, which usually involved Merle, literally, kicking Arron out of his own bed. Arron didn't complain, though. Never did. After all, Arron was the one who said Merle could have his bed whenever the other boy needed it. He was the one who gave Merle a copy of the house key. Arron pretty much set himself up, and he was okay with that. Really, he was.

Other people, though… they were not. All they focused on was how Merle would demand to have Arron's lunch money. They saw how Merle would snarl at him when he brought his lunch, and, most of the time snatching it out of Arron's hand to dig through it. People who have seen their friendship, the public part of it, anyway, would often times loudly voice their disagreement over how Merle treated poor little Arron. Merle found it funny. Arron found it insulting.

What people conveniently didn't see was all the things Merle did for Arron; when he had time, of course. Merle was a very busy kid. It seemed like every time Arron wanted to do something with his best friend, Arron had to make an appointment a week or so ahead of time. For someone who always had an open schedule for his friendship with Merle, Arron was quite peeved that he, Arron, was never at the top of Merle's list of things he needed.

Maybe that is my problem, Arron thought, annoyed. He'd been standing in baby area for a good ten minutes cursing Merle and his abruptness. If the damn Pokémon would just slow down a few seconds in life, maybe Arron wouldn't be standing in front of the baby bottles trying to figure out which would be the best for the baby. Sometimes, Arron thinks Merle really is a Water Pokémon, because Merle is really good at running away.

Arron heaved a sigh. "Fuck it," he muttered, darkly, reaching out to grab a random, cheaper bottle. At least this one looked like something he could manage. Simple, right? Twist the lid off, pour the liquid in, and twist the clear lid back onto the clear bottle. Arron tried twisting the lid off once just to make sure. It came off. Good. Good. Nodding to himself, Arron put the lid back on. "Better grab two, then." He reached out, grabbing another, blue this time. He tossed them into his hand basket and moved on.

Diapers… Arron shrugged. Knowing nothing about diaper brands, but figuring they were a bit like underwear, Arron picked a brand that cost more than the cheap store brand but not so expensive he felt like the diapers should be made of silk. Seriously, he thought ten bucks was a little too much for something the baby only uses once and you're going to throw away anyway. Granted, Arron was picking up the smaller packages of diapers, seeing as he was only keeping the kid for a day. He hoped. Keeping a kid around was stressful. He could already feel the hair on his head turning gray. I'm gonna be an old man before the day is out, he thought, bitterly, as he shoved the package in the basket. It pretty much took over the whole bottom of the purple hand basket he was carrying.

Moving on, Arron decided to pick up one of the more expensive brands of baby formulas. Because, really, Arron had no idea what he was looking at anyway, so he just grabbed the one that looked like it had the most to offer. The one with the most to offer to Arron, who was surrounded in animation, was the label that looked the most thought out and creative. He couldn't really help it. Creativity and color always drew his eye first. Arron shook the can of formula next to his ear. It sounded like it was full of sand. "Tha fuck?" He pulled the can away. "Doesn't sound eatable," he muttered. Looking along the label of the package, Arron read the directions allowed, "Wash hands… Pour water and mixture… Feed baby. Okay. Seems easy enough…" He threw the can in the basket.

"Okay, one more check. Formula?" He shifted the can he just put in. "Check. Diapers?" Poking the bag full of diapers at the bottom of the hand basket, he nodded. "Check. And, last but not least, the bottle." Moving the bag of diapers out of the way, he tossed the bottles around just because he could. "Check. Time to check out."

Of course, Merle would be there when he got back home. Arron sighed as he kicked the door shut. He ignored the other boy sitting on his couch in his living room and made his way to the kitchen counter. Setting the bags down, Arron ask, idly, "So…" Opening the plastic bags, Arron started to pull out the baby's things, "When did you get here?"

"C'uple minutes go," Merle slurred from where he was relaxing back into the couch. "Where ya go?" He asked, finally looking over at Arron. Merle was a little shocked to see Arron had left his little brother alone when he finally made his way in. Merle had planned to kick his friend's teeth in if he didn't have a good reason. You didn't just leave a baby on its' own like that, but, seeing the bags Arron was carrying when he walked in, it made since. Sort of. He still wanted to make sure.

"Had to go to the store for a moment," His friend mumbled. Merle watched his friend as he moved around the kitchen. There was a long moment where all Merle's friend did was open things and wash them. Then he was measuring out water and pouring in a powdered mixture. Merle was curious. He knew his friend was trustworthy enough to know Arron wasn't going to kill anyone. Not yet anyway, but still he was curious as to what the kid was doing.

"You didn't leave me much choice. Kids gotta eat. Gotta change 'im too," Arron said. He could feel Merle's eyes burning into his back as he moved. Finally, Arron screwed the baby bottle's lid on the bottle and shook it for a bit. "You never told me who he was." He turned to Merle, leaning back on the counter as he shook the bottle.

Merle looked over at the quiet kid in the play pen. Kid was always quiet, Merle noticed. He didn't think the kid ever cried, at least, not around his big brother. It was like the kid knew not to push Merle's buttons. "'E's mah li'l' bro'her," Merle stated, turning to give Arron a deadpan look. "Thought I told ya tha'."

"No." Arron sighed, dropping his head at his friends absentmindedness. It was a losing battle, he knew. He sighed again, giving up for now. He took a moment to open the baby diapers, having a bit of trouble doing it with one hand since he didn't want to put the bottle down; Arron pulled out a diaper from the bag and turned to head into the living room. "You just kinda threw him at me and said you'd be back for him. Had to look for some stuff to keep him occupied."

Merle frowned. "Ah, Thought I a'ready told ya." It was as close to an apology as Arron was going to get. "'E's name is Daryl, I think." At least, Merle thought it was. His mother just kind of threw the kid in the corner when she finally got to bring the kid home from the hospital. She only really gave the kid attention when his dad had people over. Any other time both his mom and dad pretended he didn't exist, like they did with Merle when he had the misfortune of being home. He was pretty sure on his brother's name being Daryl, though. Sounded like something the woman would come up with.

Arron smirked. Merle and "Daryl, huh." He looked down at the sleeping baby from over the side of the play pen. "Not too bad of a name. At least, it's not a Pokémon name this time."

Merle scowled at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Shuddup," he snapped. "Ho' many times I gotta tell ya to stop callin' me tha'?"

Arron snickered lightly, briefly looking back at Merle's red face. "When you stop callin' me Pretty Boy, I'll stop callin' you a Pokémon." It'd never happen, Arron knew, but, at least, it was fair play. Arron turned back to the baby, Daryl, wondering whether to wake the kid or not. Arron really needed to put the kid in a diaper and probably try getting some food n that tiny tommy of his.

As if sensing Arron's thoughts, Daryl opened his eyes. Upon laying eyes on Arron, Daryl let out a happy little gurgle and waved his arms about. Again, Arron wondered if babies could feel excitement. Maybe, Daryl just knew Arron was going to take care of him? If he was really Merle's little brother, then he probably suffered the same neglect as Merle. That thought yanked at Arron's heart. Daryl was probably going to grow up the same way as Merle. Arron had seen the scars on his friend, had even helped treat a few new ones. Merle didn't say where they came from, but Arron knew Merle knew he had an idea where they did. Arron switched everything into one hand, to reaching out with his other and gently stroke Daryl's chubby baby face. "He's an okay baby," Arron stated as Daryl giggled up at him.

Merle hummed in agreement. His friend had already turned bay towards his show, completely ignoring Arron and Daryl.

Arron placed the bottle and diaper on the floor so he could have both hands free. "So, how long you staying?" He asked Merle, keeping most of his attention on the baby.

"Thinking a few days." Merle sighed. "Gotta get away from everythin' an' I can' just leave 'im there."

Arron hummed as he placed Daryl outside the pen. Slowly, he unwrapped the towels around the naked babe. "Well, I got you baby formula and diapers for your brother." Arron lifted the baby's legs as gently as he could, he didn't want to hurt the baby. "Should last you a while." He scooted the diaper under Daryl's butt and let the tinny legs go. "Can get you more later, if you need it." He pulled the front of the diaper between Daryl's legs and secured the diaper around the kid's waist, just like the instructions on the net said to. "Probably should have gotten baby wipes too, now that I think about it. All done, Daryl." Arron cooed at the baby before picking both baby Daryl and the bottle up. "You hungry now, baby Daryl?" He asked. The baby giggled and reached out.

"Ug," Merle gagged. "Think I'ma be sick."

Arron chuckled at Merle's theatrics. "Don't listen to him, kiddo. Big brother Merle is just being mean again." Arron popped the lid off the bottle and held it to the kid's lips. "He's just jealous he can't have all the attention." The baby quickly latches onto the nipple, sucking greedily at the formula. "Aren't you the most adorable baby ever," Arron found himself cooing at the baby again.

"Hey!" Merle snapped, "Stop babying 'im. Yer gonna turn 'im into a pansy, like you."

Arron just laughed at Merle's reaction. "Never!" He chirped, "'E's my baby now~ Mwhahahahah…"Arron dodged Merle as he lunged at him. "'Ey," Arron snapped, "Yer gonna make me drop 'im!"


	4. Interlude

Been so busy with work and school, I have no time to think on my stories anymore. I actually have work in an hour but I wanted to get this up first. I know its not long but I figure something is better then nothing. THUS, my interlude for you~

I don't own walking dead or the characters, Just the jacobs~

* * *

In the past two days Merle and Daryl have been staying with him, Arron learned two very important things. Never, under any circumstances comment on how strangely soft Merle looked while holding his little brother in his careful embrace. That was apparently warranting enough to get a horrid beat down that left bruises over Arron's left eye and a split lip. Second thing he'd learn is that the baby isle always looked like a hurricane came though. Arron really didn't know how anyone found anything in that mess they call the infants area. Was it just by sheer luck?

"Excuse me," Arron shifted baby diaper-only clothed Daryl more comfortably in his arms as he tried to call over the apparel employee that was stationed in the infants, "Excuse me, miss." He had no idea where Merle went. The kid practically took off the opposite direction the moment we stepped through the door. As annoying it was, Arron couldn't expect Merle to stay, brother or not Merle will always be Merle. With Merle gone, though, that left just Arron to make sure naked Daryl didn't freeze from the AC and the job of looking for clothes for the kid. "Excuse me, miss!" This lady wasn't really helping him any. "MISS!" Arron practically growled as the lady pretty much speed walked away from him, pretending to act natural. Arron let the woman go. "Dumb broad," he muttered quietly to himself as he brushed his hand down the back Daryl's head. "Bet she couldn't help us anyway," He told Daryl already letting go of the irritation he felt towards the situation. Arron was finding it difficult to stay mad while Daryl was around. The boy just had those doe like eyes that practically fluttered when he looked up. The look practically sent Arron's fan boy tendencies into full blast. Arron had to fight the urge to giggle over boy every time it happens, which was a lot.

"Okay!" Arron chirped looking back at the storm, mood already brightened. "On ward, my fellow comrade," He looked over towards the boy with a smile. Daryl giggled up at him, reaching out to grab his nose, "TO THE CLOTHES!" Arron yelled, shifting Daryl so he could point outward in front of himself. Letting his hand fall back around the baby, Arron moved forward. This was going to be a long day…

"It's a good thing yer're a boy," Arron told Daryl as he tried to hold a shirt to the baby's chest and keep from dropping the tiny body. "'Cause if ya were a girl, I'd a still dressed ya in skulls and cars."

Daryl giggled up at Arron, going into a babble fit as if trying to answer back.

"Yeah," Arron said, pretending to understand the baby babble, "I think you'd still look good either way." He pulled the shirt away from the tiny chest and held it up as best he could with one hand to the baby. "What do you think of this one?"

The kid's face twisted up making it look like the boy was thinking hard. Then out of nowhere a tiny little fist grabbed the shirt out of Arron's loose embrace and threw it on the floor.

Arron stared at the fallen shirt for a few seconds in shock. He wasn't really sure if Daryl meant to actually do that or if it was a fit of baby movements that all happened at the same time and in such a way that it looked like the kid meant to. "Ohhh… kay… so no _Race Car_ themes," Arron said, slowly, still in shock. "Got'cha… I think."

Daryl giggled happily, waving his hands in strange. Arron just stared at the baby in his arms.

* * *

"Shorts or pants?" Arron asked Daryl, looking between the two sides. Daryl babbled a few times, not even looking at Arron, his eyes set on watching another baby, a girl, squirm around in her mother's arms. "Shorts?" Arron asked, still looking at the two racks. "You sure? Winters coming up you know." Daryl began to wave his hands frantically in the little girls direction. "I don't know," Arron said, still not pying attention to Daryl's wiggling, "I think jeans would be best. Besides, these colors for the shorts are kind of gross. I mean baby poop green? Gross." At Daryl's cry, Arron lookd down at the child startled at the reaction. "I know that sounds like a gross color but…" Arron trailed off as he finally realized what, or rather who, had Daryl's attention. Arron took one look at the wiggling girl and said, in the sternest voice and natural face he could muster at his age, "Those kind of girls are heart breakers, Daryl." Arron shifted Daryl further away from the girl. "They date you until you think yer in love and then, boom," He lightly shook the baby in his arms, gaining the kids attention, "Ya don't know what ya did wrong. They jus' want out, I suppose." Daryl sniffed, eyes going wide and glossy after Arron's speech. "Ah," Arron panicked, quickly brushing the boys chubby cheeks with his fingertips. "But I won't let them do tha' to ya." He said, smiling at the kid. "I'll kill 'em first." Throwing a glare at the girl and her mom, Arron picked up the first pair of jeans that looked like they fit Daryl and left the isle.


End file.
